Ain't a Gentlemanly Thing to Do
by K900
Summary: Notorious Bank Robber Samantha Davison is at a crossroads: save the wounded Dr Schultz who is hunting her ? Or leave him to die in the Texas desert so she can escape to a new life in Boston?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

At the RedRock Inn, Dr Schultz is calmly reading a paper, sipping a cup of coffee. The morning light filters in and the town is starting to stir. Nearby the sound of a blacksmith hammering away, can be heard while a distant wagon rolls by. Heavy footsteps descend from the wooden staircase, it's the tall Mr Django, still sleepy but nevertheless ready for a new day. He takes up the chair opposite the bearded Doctor, and asks,

—What we got today, Dr Schultz? says Django, leaning back into the chair, his hand resting on his shoulder holster, like a soldier eager to be on duty.

Looking up from his paper, wearing small half-moon reading glasses, Dr Schultz didn't look too enthusiastic. He folded up the paper and put it away. He always spoke slowly when he didn't like a particular job.

—It's a lady this time, he says, removing the spectacles and folding them back, A bank robber by the name of Samantha Davison. She was small time, but in a recent heist she killed a young deputy. They've raised her bounty to a cool five thousand. Everyone will be looking for her in Bell Town, but I happen to know she has a boyfriend somewhere in the outlying area. A dirty outlaw, George Mahoney. My guess is that she'll be seeking safety thru him in this time of trouble.

—She dangerous?

—Not quite, she usually surrounds herself with muscle during the heists. But on her own, she's easy pickings. Its just that she often manages to slip away. She's quite clever, which explains why she's eluded capture for so long.

—Are we shooting her on sight?

—No need. If we can capture her alive, so much the better. Personally, I'd prefer to leave her to the hangman. He sighed. I don't like shooting ladies.

—Neither do I, Doc. says Django, taking out a cigar and lighting it. It ain't a gentlemanly thing to do.

* * *

Midnight. Samantha Davison waited with bated breath at the undertaker's workshop. A dead cattle rustler was lying guts open while being attended to by a morose looking man. This was her secret meeting place with her crew members. This night, she was expecting Peter Hickok, her brilliant safecracker. He was a wanted man himself and kept home, no one knew where. But one thing was for sure, nobody ever came to visit an undertakers workshop at midnight, not even the authorities. The smell was atrocious and the sights, were downright gruesome.

Samantha had with her, little green bags of cash. All with the faded logo of the Texas County Bank on the sides. She had divvied up the profit, and was awaiting her last accomplice to award his cut.

She ground her heel into the ground. _Why is he taking this long?_ then she realised that perhaps the heat on them had perhaps gotten too much. _Maybe he'd been captured. Maybe he'd been shot? What if the Marshall was coming this way already? Keep your cool, girl. She kept repeating to herself. Stay cool._

A rapping noise came from the door. The undertaker opened it. A muscly short cowboy entered, a man with a snub-nose and stern eyes.

—Pete! She whispered. What took you so long?

—I had to be careful, he said. I think the roads are being watched. I hear our bounty has gone up in value.

She swallowed hard. —Can't be helped I guess. The young deputy getting shot and all.

—You got my share, Sam? he held out a greasy hand.

She produced the faded green moneybags. —It's all there, Pete. Thirty thousand. Your fair share. You can count it if you want.

He opened the bags and sized up the weight of the cash bundles.—Nah, these are about right. he said, smiling broadly because of his immense fortune.

—You seen Georgey around, Pete? I gotta see him. Now I know he doesn't like me bothering him all the time. But I gotta ask him for advice.

The smile drained from his lips.

—You aint heard yet, Sam?

* * *

Samantha rode towards the entrance of Bell Town. The horse bore down at a furious pace down the desert road. Her heart was beating fast. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she was filled with dread of what she would see. The sharp hairs of the horse had begun to chafe her calves with the hours of riding. But she didn't care. She was full of thirst and didn't notice it. She hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday nor rest. She didn't care. He was gone, gone, gone.

And in the distance, she saw it. The lone tree.

Hanging on the higher branches, was the silhouette of her dear George. His face in a gruesome contortion of pain. That dear face, who brought her love, comfort, a sense of belonging, hung like a torn carcass in a butcher's shop.

She let out a heart rending cry that rang across the first streaks of dawn.

In the far distance, lying low on the ground, Django and Dr Schultz observed Samantha's gruesome discovery of lover's body hanging from an tree. She clung to his lifeless body paralysed with sorrow.

—Let's get her now! Django said. Gripping the rifle at his side.

Dr Schultz grabbed his shoulder.

— _No_. Let her grieve. he said firmly. She's come a long way, Django. It's the _least_ we can do.

—Who would do such a terrible thing like that?

—The security of the Texas Stage Coach. They'd been trying to apprehend him for years. Now he's been hung to scare off the other thieves.

—I can't bear to hear a lady cry like that, Django lamented. Breaks my heart.

—Neither can I.

They lay low on the hill, just watching her.

She cut her George down from the tree, and lowered him slowly to the ground. She took out a canteen and lovingly wiped the dirt from his face, hands and feet. She combed his hair, closed his eyes and straightened his suit.

Although tired and hungry, she took out a shovel from her saddlebag and began to laboriously dig his grave. Django and Dr Schultz had dozed off as she'd done so. When they woke a little later, they were to touched to find her cradling his head on her lap as the sun rose high in the east. Running her fingers through his hair for one last time before finally covering him up with earth.

Dr Schultz sniffed once or twice.

—Have you ever seen that kind of devotion from a woman, Django?

—Can't say I have.

—I don't think I've ever been loved that way, or will ever be.

The doctor stood up and dusted off his clothes.

—Let's keep our distance and observe, he instructed Django. There's no need to arrest her just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sam enters Bell town and gets some food into her by going to a nearby inn. Satisfied, she walks over to the Train Station, buys herself a one-way train ticket to Boston, due to leave that very night. Shortly after that, she makes her way to the Bank and instructs the bank official to specific instructions to give undisclosed amount to a person in the town.

Still very much raw from the death of George she walks back to the inn in a more relaxed frame of mind until she sees, a handbill nailed to a post with a crude image her face on it.

SAMANTHA DAVISON

wanted DEAD or ALIVE

for the crime of Grand Theft Robbery and

Murder of a Federal Deputy

Reward of Ten Thousand Dollars

Authorized by the Court of Austin

She realises her handbill is everywhere. Though crudely drawn, someone could still recognise her. To her, the town has become a death trap.

Fear unlike anything fills her. There's no George to tell her what to do, or where to go. She feels abandoned and totally alone. No one to care if she makes it through or not. No one to weep for her if she were gunned down on the street. Every face in the town could be a hunter. She wasn't a person, she was a bag of easy cash.

Afraid, she gets on her horse and rides for the only place she has felt safe, her small shack by the Guadalupe mountains.

She uses, not the main road, but a circuitous way. Through a series of passes, and rock formations, she makes her way home. Just when she thought she could no longer suffer any more misfortune, she sees her home, alight with fire in the distance.

Behind her, she hears the clatter of cowboys closing in. She realises she is about to be captured.

* * *

Django and Dr Schultz shadow Samantha cautiously, far behind so that she won't sense that she's been followed.

They speculate on her actions in the town.

—Why would she buy a ticket to Boston?

—She could be setting her sights on bigger heists, Django. She can be quite ambitious, I imagine. Perhaps Texas is beginning to bore her.

—And the cash she left in the bank? Who is that for?

—It could be for her accomplices. Maybe a bribe. Who knows? We'll find out soon enough, reassured Dr Schultz.

In the distance, Django sees an orange glow on the guadalupe mountain. Dr Schultz sees it too. Without thinking, Dr King whipped his horse Fritz with the reins and sent his wagon careening toward the burning shack. Django following closely behind him.

A chill ran up the the Doctor.

Lawmen had surrounded Sam, and having divested her of her cash and her weapon, chased her into a field of Firethorn bushes they had set as a trap. Her fear had gotten the worst of her, and she ran head long into them. Thorns as long as men's fingers dove into her fair flesh, filling her with indescribable agony. Unable to struggle, she collapsed, entangled in its bloody embrace.

The cowboys pulled her by the hair and laid her down on the sand. They raised her skirt and were getting ready to ravish her.

Dr Schultz raised his pistol and took careful aim. The first one, fell back dead. Django fired on another. A blind fury over came him the doctor. He dismounted his wagon and went methodically to shoot each man. Using pistols in each hand to dispatch them. When he ran out of bullets, used the guns of his victims. But the last one, a salty gunslinger, shot Dr King in the side, bringing him down. But King finished him off. He fell, not too far from Samantha, who had seen his heroic deed, but was still terribly injured.

She saw that she was saved by these two men. She got up to assist the one with the beard, who had been shot. He held his bloodied side to stem the flow. She saw the button of the court of texas on his lapel. He was a lawman. The other one had ridden off, far away in pursuit of the others on horseback.

—Aaah, he gasped in pain, as she tried to help him.

—I know a doctor, Not too far from here. she told him

She sees the doctor's wagon and puts his arm over her shoulder to help him get inside. He is growing pale and the bleeding hasn't stopped.

She rides the wagon East to Clear Water farm, where doctor Hodges lives. On her way there, she was rejoined by Django, the tall dark man who helped save her.

—Where's the doc? he asks her.

—Inside, he's been shot, I'm going to Doc Hodges, you know him?

—A bit.

—Ride ahead and get him ready to receive us.

—alright, miss. He took off like a shot.

At a crossroad, she saw the road leading back to Bell Town. She remembered the ticket in her pocket and her hope for a new life. But that meant unhitching the horse, and leaving the bearded man to die so she could ride to Bell Town and make the train.

—No, she thought. She whipped the horse and urged on to Clear Water, leaving her last opportunity for a new life, far behind. _These men will arrest me for the bounty and I'll hang. I simply can't leave him to die here. He saved me, even if it was from other lawmen._

When she arrived, the doctor was already waiting for her, his lantern in hand.

With Django, they carried him into the doctor's house.

The Doc peeled the blood soaked shirt and assessed the injury. He wearily wiped his brow.

—I have to dig out the bullet, and hope the damage isn't severe. Wait outside, he ordered.

The doc saw her deep bruises.

—Django, theres some river water in a barrel over there, get her cleaned up and bandaged.

—Sure thing.

With that, Django got a small cloth, dipped it in the clean water, and began to wipe her bloodied arms and legs as she sat on the doctors waiting bench.

—Thank you, stranger, she said. I owe you both for coming to my rescue. But I guess you will be paid handsomely for it. she said, referring to her reward.

—Look, wether there was a reward or no, we would have still ridden to get you out. Those men who attacked you, made me ashamed to be a bounty hunter. That man in there, he's a real lawman and a decent human being. Thank you for bringing him in, your quick thinking saved him.

—Whats his name?

—Dr King Schultz.

* * *

The next morning, Dr King woke in the living room of Doc Hodges. Beside him, on the floor, slept Sam, the wanted lady. Django, had fallen asleep on the other end of the room, on a wing backed chair, sound asleep.

He looks at his side, and sees that he'd been freshly bandaged. He feels a dull pain in his side but feels his strength returning. A sign that he'll get better. _Perhaps it wasn't a fatal wound after all_. He thought.

He watched her sleeping peacefully. Her blanket had fallen carelessly, he lifted it up and covered her up to the shoulder. She was a lot more attractive up close. If he had met her elsewhere, like a Saloon or at the Mayor's Ball, he would surely have invited her out for a drink or two. But as a wanted criminal, that was quite out of the question.

She stirred, and gradually opened her eyes.

—Up already, Doc H will be pleased. He told to wake him when you came to.

—Wait. he said, grabbing her lightly by the arm.

—I wanted to ask you, why you helped me. Most outlaws, would have ran.

—You saved my life. I wasn't going to leave you out there to die after what you've done for me.

—Thank you Samantha. Could I ask I ask you something?

She nodded.

— I've been trying to track you for sometime. Where were you earlier this year. Did you have a new hiding place?

— After the robbery I lay low three towns over from Bell Town. Bradieville. There, I took the wrong road, and was caught in the heat of the desert. My horse had died, and I walked to the main road. I was dying of thirst and hunger on the road. A lot of people passed me by, thinking it was a bandit trap. A woman with a baby in a wagon picked me up and took me home and nursed me till I got better. I saw a picture by her cot. It was of her dead husband. A young deputy with a wine stain birthmark on on his cheek. Of all people, I was saved by the widow of the deputy that gotten killed in my last bank robbery.

—All I wanted was a fresh start. Its's too late now. she said. A macabre thought crossed her mind.

—Is it true that hanging is quick and painless? She asked him.

He looked away ruefully.

—That's what they say, he replied.

Tears began to well up in her eyes.

—You're not under arrest, he reassured her, no one's going to hurt you, not on my watch.

She wanted to believe him and his earnest hazel eyes. But she didn't know if she could. After all, who would give up five thousand dollars?

* * *

That day, Dr Schultz had to rest, and was in and out of consciousness. By early evening, Django had come to him when Sam was being attended to by Doc Hodges for her firethorn injuries.

He showed Dr King a train ticket for Boston, for the previous night.

—I found this among Sam's things. Look, this train was due to leave _yesterday_. She gave up her escape to Boston to save _you._

Looking at the King realised that this is what she meant by a fresh start. A new life far away. She could have left him to die there and gotten on the train, but she hadn't.

 _Now she thinks she's going to hang for it._

—Django, I need you to send a message to the Marshall of Bell town. Can you do that for me?

—Of course. Said Django.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days passed before Dr Schultz had been able to recover, in that time, word had spread of the massacre of the erring Bounty hunters who had robbed the wanted bank thief Sam Davison. The Sheriff recovered the bodies and buried them at the Bell Town cemetery. The mayor made a speech saying that lawlessness wasn't going to be tolerated in Bell Town anymore.

The Marshall of Bell Town arrived in Doc Hodges' home. When Sam saw him at the front porch, she threw an accusing look at Dr Schultz.

—You said I wasn't under arrest.

Schultz tried to sit up, he winced as he did so. He put his hand on her shoulder.

—Listen, I have not gone back on my word. The marshall and his two men, will accompany us thru the town tomorrow morning to show the bounty hunters that you have indeed been captured, so they can go back to their respective counties. Unfortunately for appearances, you will have to be manacled, but you are not under arrest. It's just for show, understand? I cannot reveal the entire plan. But I promise you, you will not see the inside of a cell.

He paused and reminded her:

—Sam, you saved my life, I'm not going to let you hang for it.

He could see the fear leave her face. Overwhelmed from the fear that she was going to be arrested, she leaned her head on his shoulder and sobbed. Perhaps it was everything, the death of George, her house being burned to the ground, her nearly being raped, it was all too much to bear. No one had cared, but this strange bounty hunter, who for some reason, was willing to forego a five thousand dollar reward, did.

He rubbed her back gently, like a parent comforting a child with a skimmed knee.

—There now, he said. Poor girl, you've been through a lot. Let it out, its better than bottling it up.

He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her.

Django walked in and saw them together sitting on the floor. Her crying in his arms.

The doctor looked, different to him. A softer side of him emerged, comforting this weak lady, overwhelmed by her troubles.

He felt like he'd walked in on a pair of lovers. So he quietly stepped back out, and left them alone.

The next morning, the Marshall arrived. He brought with him two armed men.

Samantha remembered Dr Schultz' promise to her and let them manacled her wrists together.

After securing her, they set her on a horse and with the lawmen, rode as a sombre procession thru town. Django, Dr Schultz, and the Sheriff walked their horses abreast with their prisoner before them, followed by the two men with shotguns closely behind.

Samantha hung her head in shame. As they passed the bank, a woman with a small child had walked out of the bank with a small green money bag. She looked as if she didn't understand who would have given her all this money. When she looked at the outlaw being paraded through town, she recognised the young lady she had nursed back to health.

 _The deputy's widow._ thought Dr Schultz.

The widow caused a commotion, telling people they'd gotten the wrong person. That Sam was a poor person. But nobody paid her any attention and brushed her aside. It brought tears to Samantha's eyes.

They rode out of Bell Town, and followed a trail to the railroad tracks. In the distance was an odd sight, a little train, fully stopped in the middle of nowhere.

They made their way to it. Dr Schultz dismounted and went over to Sam. He took off her manacles.

—Are we getting on? she asked.

—No, just you. he said.

—I don't understand.

—The Marshal of Bell Town is an old friend of mine who owes me a big favour. This train is making an unscheduled stop, a technical inspection, so to speak, to take you on to Boston. I have a friend who can help you find suitable employment there, if you need it.

—He'll be at the station when you arrive.

He gestured to the train, —You wanted a fresh start, here it is.

—Why are you doing this? Letting me go?

—Before I came here to pursue you, I read the witness transcripts to your robbery. I realised that you hadn't meant to kill the deputy. It wasn't you at all, in fact. You had a Smithson revolver. the Deputy was killed by a shotgun. An obvious error made by conflicting eyewitness accounts. But the error has been corrected. Here, (he put a telegram in her hand). The judge in Texas wired his reversal based on my analysis. Technically, you're no longer wanted for murder.

However, you are still wanted for robbery, for that, you will not be arrested, provided you do not re-enter Texas.

She could barely find the words, but she profusely thanked the Marshall, his men, and Django.

Finally, she embraced Dr Schultz. She could smell the faint scent of desert sage on his skin.

—Thank you for everything, I simply can't thank you enough.

—They're waiting. Get on, now, my dear.

She had already stepped on, but there was one last thing she wanted to do so very badly.

She turned back and planted her lips on Dr Schultz' mouth. For that instant, they were totally unaware of everything and everyone around them. Her hands ran through his brown hair. She could feel his hand deftly underneath her top caressing the small of her back.

How long this sweet kiss lasted, they couldn't say. But when they unlocked lips, Dr Schultz hair was disheveled and her top was slightly askew.

The men looked slightly embarrassed. Django was enjoying a cigar. The Marshal sipped gin from a silver flask.

He took her hand and helped her board the train.

—Look me up in Boston, won't you? she said as the train pulled away.

—You can count on it.

The END.


End file.
